


The Sun is the Same

by marie_roget



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, canon compliant until season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_roget/pseuds/marie_roget
Summary: Dean spent 5 years thinking his brother was being tortured in Hell, but a visit to Heaven brings in some new awareness. With it comes a choice between life and death.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 3





	The Sun is the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! MANY years ago, I used to watch Supernatural but I stopped after Season 7. At that time, I wrote this fic as a personal ideal ending to the series, set between Seasons 5 and 6. But I never posted it and forgot about it. Now I've found it again and thought 'oh well, i should post it... maybe someone will like it!'. So here it is. :)

Dean opens his eyes to find himself lying on the hood of the Impala. It's deep into the night and above him a thousand stars shine brightly.

He's not sure he's dreaming until he recognizes the woods around him. Ohio, March 2004, he and Sam were in-between a werewolf hunt and an exorcism, when they decided to take three days off the job to rest and drink themselves to oblivion in Cuyahoga Valley. They drank a lot, for sure, but mostly they camped, and swam in the almost freezing lake, and fished, and at night they stared at the stars for hours, without saying a word, slowly nursing beers and thinking about the future.

(A future which, it turned out, involved him leading a calm civilian life with Lisa and Ben, and Sam in Hell - for five years now).

Dean looks at the dream-stars, who shine more brightly than on that day in 2004; the air around him, unlike that winter when they had to wear four layers of clothes to keep them from freezing their asses, is sweet and cool and drifts around him carrying soft sounds of wind and small animals that roam the woods during the night.

He looks around and realizes he is completely alone in this eerily beautiful scene. A memory of something precious lost in time, a time – he had no idea - when each day was a precious gift that was meant to be cherished and reveled in.

He decides to roam around the forest, since the hood of the Impala is a cruel remembrance of a perfect moment spent so many years ago. When he comes down he notices some other differences about the scene: the tent set up beside the car is much, much bigger than the one they used to have and, in fact, the campsite is much more organized than how they used to keep it – there are sleeping bags, nice fishing rods and even a barbecue set laying around. The site is also clean, no weeds or trash lying around the tent, like someone has been taking care of this special place while he was gone. Dean likes the idea.

He starts walking towards the lake and hears the distant sound of splashing. He approaches the edge of the forest and sees someone swimming, illuminated by a yellow moon floating low above the water.

Someone who is Sam – he knows it instantly.

Dean doesn't remember this happening in dreams before, but he feels his heart start to beat in a desperate frantic rhythm that spreads throughout his whole body: he feels dizzy, a bit breathless. Even if it's a dream, he feels overcome with emotion.

In five years, Dean never dreamed about his brother. Not of his fall into the pit, not of his deaths, not of him as a child or as a sullen teenager - nothing.

And now there he is. He stands in the darkness looking at Sam for a long time, watching his long arms and legs cutting through the dark waters of the lake until he reaches a wooden platform floating on its center and raises himself above it, sitting with his legs spread wide open, arms supporting him as he tumbles his head back and gazes at what must be the most beautiful sky on Earth. Dean looks at his brother, naked beneath the moonlight, and wonders how dreams can shake you up more than real life, sometimes.

After a while, he hears a hustling behind him. He is perfectly calm, as one usually is when something unexpected happens in a dream, as he hears the sound come closer and closer.

“Dean.”

Dean turns around and is not so surprised to see Castiel behind him, using the same trench coat and the same weary ragged expression he used to have back on the day.

“Hey Cas... long time no see”, he glances briefly at his old time friend and is glad to see him – well, his dream version anyway – looking well, before turning his attention back to Sam.

“Yes. Even longer for me, my friend, since here in Heaven time goes by slower.”

Dean spins around and looks at Cas again. “Heaven? You say we're in Heaven?”

“Yes; Sam's heaven, anyway. We're just visiting.”

For a second, Dean is overwhelmed by the idea. He remembers how happy Sam was in that trip, how he loved the lake, and the autumn foliage around them, and this clear, wide sky, where bald eagles cut through the sky making wild maneuvers to impress their female companions. He sees Sam lying in the middle of the lake, gazing the stars as if letting their glow shine right through him and thinks he would like to believe that Sam is passing Eternity in a place like this, but – unfortunately – he knows better.

“Ok, right. So look, Dream-Cas, maybe you didn't get this memo, but Sam is in Hell. He is suffering every damn second of Eternity; maybe torturing people the same way they have been torturing him for hundreds of years, because we all know that even if a Winchester saves the frigging world, they'll just get fucked up in the end. So if this is your idea of a joke or something, well screw yourself and thanks for nothing”. He knows the hurt he means to inflict should be aimed at the _real_ Castiel, but he doesn't care.

“Dean, _this is not a dream_. Pay attention, look around. You've been in Heaven before.” And to further prove his point, he pinches Dean with all the strength of his fingers. Dean curses under his breath, feels a wave of anger coming by but decides to try and look around him once again. Look at Sam once again, and really pay attention.

“You know I can't lie. It's really him, it's Sam.” Cas looks at Dean with that unfaltering, steady look that only pure angels can pull off and Deans wants to believe, he wants it so badly, but it's impossible...

“It's not impossible. He's been here all the time. There are.. hum... some advantages to being one of the sheriffs of Heaven. I talked to Joshua, Joshua talked to God and this little scheme was arranged. Lucifer doesn't need a vessel in Hell.”

Dean looks back and sees Sam stand up on the platform before plunging into the still waters of the lake. The scene is so peaceful, so beautiful, so perfect that Deans feels something break inside, tears gathering on the corner of his eyes and pure, sheer relief pouring out of himself in unending waves. He lets the truth – he knows it now, he feels it - settle into his heart and crumbles to the ground with a thought hammering against his skull over and over: _he's okay he's okay he's okay_. Cas stands right where he is and makes no motion to help him up.

Sam reaches the shore. For the first time, Dean notices the dog – Bones – that was quietly waiting for Sam to come back, and sees how Sam's face breaks into a smile as he reaches down to the animal and scratches behind his ears.

On the back of his mind – probably the part that believes he will never ever deserve any relief to his pain – Dean remembers that Paradise is supposed to be about good memories, but he doesn't see himself (or a weird memorex version of himself anyway) anywhere around. Maybe Sam has managed to improve that distant memory and erase Dean out of it. 'Walden' has always been one of Sam's favorite books, and now it seemed like he was living it, alone with his dog and the wilderness and the lake. He tries not to feel hurt about the fact that Sam decided to be alone here, but he knows that he is. But a small hurt like that is nothing compared to the ominous weight being released from his chest by knowing that Sam didn't have to suffer what he did down below.

“Dean.” Cas finally says after some minutes of silence, as he grasps his arm and pulls him up. “There is a reason why you're here today”.

“Yeah, I get it. Thank you, Cas. I can't tell you how fucking relieved I am to know Sammy is doing alright after all...” Dean backs away from the edge of the forest and hides himself as best as he can, fearing that Sam will spot them behind the trees as he approaches the place where his clothes are hanging.

Cas looks at where Sam is drying himself and slightly nods “Yes, he is alright. Better than you, anyway. And don't worry, he's not able to see us.”

They stay in silence for a minute before Dean turns away and says: “Yeah, yeah, it's good to know. Thank you, dude. I... I think I can go back now”, he starts walking back to the Impala, not because he thinks the car is a special portal out of Heaven, but because he can't stand looking at Sam anymore and not rushing out to try to hold him in his arms with all the strength he's got.

“I didn't bring you here to show you how Sam was faring, Dean”, he stares once again and Dean finally notices that the edges of Cas' body slightly glow under the moonlight.

Cas goes on: “If it were that simple, I would have done it before – five years ago. But you see, what happens is that when you wake up – when you back to your body, better saying – you don't remember any of it anyway; you'll still think Sam is rotting in Hell, so this small trip wouldn't make any difference.”

Dean waits for the angel to go on with a strange feeling on his chest, that he doesn't know how to identify. A mix of anxiety, dread, hope, fear, delight, and all the other possible emotions that hang on by a thread to crash onto him, depending on Cas' next words.

“When we offered Sam this little piece of Heaven, taken straight out from the deepest desire of his heart, we offered everything there was in it – including the dog, the bigger tent, long roads around for the Impala, a wooden platform on the lake, nice weather and you. Not you as one of the fake projections you see around in these other versions of Paradise, but the real you. An accident was all it would take. You're dead and in a second you'd be here with him, if you wanted to.”

“But Sam said no. He remembered how you said that the real world was better than this strange, angel-spun illusion, and he wanted you to have everything he had wanted for himself. A normal job, a family, a kid. He wanted you to have it, so he refused: both the real you and a fake you. And he's been living here, alone but content, for a long, long time. Sometimes I drop by and chat with him, sometimes Ash visits and brings alcohol for them to enjoy together, but yes, mostly alone and content.”

“The reason I brought you here today is because tomorrow, on Earth, you die. You have a heart attack while jogging and you die. If you die, you come to Heaven and, if you would wish to join your brother, you come here.”

“But We – Heaven – could save you. A doctor jogging right beside you, an ambulance passing by at the right moment, and you would live 43 years more. It's what Sam would want; it's what Bobby, Lisa and Ben would want; it's what your students would want, what that nice lady you help with the groceries would want. And when you do pass away, 43 years from now, Sam would most probably still be right here. You have a lot of credit in Heaven and it really seemed like something I would like to do for you, my friend.”

“But... you see, I've seen you and you brother torture yourselves for so much time now, making decisions based on what you think would be better for the other and not on what's in your heart. John Winchester sure had a way to convince you that loving someone was about playing the martyr and the hero, but it is not. It's about letting the person you love do what they truly want, letting them leave if they want to leave, and letting they stay if they want to stay. This is the meaning of sacrifice – to delegate the decision to the other and trust them, not taking it away from them – to let each one fulfill their soul's desire.”

“I love you, Dean Winchester, so what I'm asking you is: what is your soul's desire? Is it to go back to Earth and keep on living your life? Is it to hang on to your promise to Sam and try to live the life he never had? Is it to leave Sam alone and content in this beautiful dream, until a new reincarnation comes along for him?”

“I can give you whatever you want. But please, don't lie to me or to yourself. Or to Sam.”

While trying to still his heart and keep the rumble of emotions caused by so many revelations being poured onto him – by Castiel, of all people! - Dean thinks about it. He thinks about Lisa and Ben and the life they share. A life full of sunny side up eggs, soccer balls, white comforters and Sunday TV shows. He thinks about how incredibly selfish it would be to leave them bereaved and alone. He thinks about his friends – how for the first time in his life he actually has some – sharing jokes and beers on Saturday nights with some home-cooking, playing pool and not trying to scam, for once. He thinks about how Bobby would feel if he lost Dean and how it would break him.

Then he thinks about Sam. He thinks about those years of solitude and contentment, how in Sam's heart he would rather have had Dean here but, for Dean's sake, didn't take up on Cas' offer. He thought how sooner or later Sam would have another life, maybe in another world, and he would forget all about Dean. He thought how, if he kept on living, everyone would probably be... satisfied.

“You know” Castiel interrupts him once again, as if the angel had 100 years to figure Dean out and now finally has the opportunity to tell him all about it “we angels can see inside people's heart. We can see your fears, and weaknesses and flaws, but we also can see your love and your kindness and your soul.”

“When you feel true love, we angels can feel it. I'm not talking about those feelings derived from urge to please, or from duty or pity or guilt, which, on Earth, you sometimes call love; we know they're not, because they're dead emotions that come from fear of losing, fear of being alone. And you now how we know when it is truly love? Because it makes you – and us - truly happy.”

“So tomorrow, either you live or you die, it doesn't matter. But either way, you have a chance at happiness, Dean. You've been living these five past years as a ghost of yourself, haunted by the terrible idea of your brother in hell and torn by all the guilt and sorrow of the world, when you could _decide_ to make Sam's sacrifice worth something and actually try to be happy with the life you have. I'm tired of seeing you running away from what's in your heart. You see, everyone, anywhere, they always have a chance at happiness. Happiness is actually pretty easy: you just have to grasp it within your own hands and let go of everything else.”

“This is best gift I can give to you. Tomorrow you will wake up without any memory of this, so you have to tell me right now. Have you made your decision? ”

Dean turns away from Castiel to watch as Sam walks towards them and the path back to camp, after having dried himself and put on some shorts and a T-shirt. The dog bounces right behind him and Dean looks at Sam closely as he slowly passes by them. He looks at his brother's expression and countenance and notices that he is a different man now, completely surrounded by an aura of peace, all the anger long gone, as if cleaned away by the holy waters of the lake. He notices his eyes, that shine softly under the moonlight, and how droplets of water cling to the ends of his hair around his face. He also notices Sam has a necklace around his neck – his necklace, the one he threw away so many years ago when he wanted to tear his brother's heart to pieces because his was just as torn. A few steps ahead on the path, Sam turns around and looks back at them, or at least at the place where they stand, before looking up to the moon and the incredible reflection on the lake. He must know it's an illusion, but it is a beautiful illusion indeed. Sam smiles softly and grasps the pendant before turning around and going back to camp.

Dean watches him go before turning to his companion with a strange light shining through his eyes.

“Yeah, I've got it.”

“Good. Let's go then, it's almost morning down on Earth, but we still got some time over here. The Sun, you know, it's the same in Heaven and on Earth.” Castiel starts walking towards the lake and Dean is not sure whether the angel will be happy or not with his decision.

“Cas?”

The angel looks back at Dean with no expression in his eyes and waits for Dean to catch up.

Dean puts his hand on Cas' shoulder, squeezes hard, and says:

“I love you too, man.”

Cas' smile is genuine and beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam wakes up just before the sun is up, like he does everyday. Today his alarm clock is a couple of warblers singing just above camp, and though there isn't enough light to see their yellow small bodies yet, Sam is sure.

Bones comes out of the woods and joins him as he packs up his sleeping bag and puts on some clothes. He doesn't know why, but living alone in the forest has made him a man full of small rituals that keep him rooted to a distant reality, left behind so long ago he doesn't almost remember anything. He knew there was a lot of tears and sorrow, some laughter and pleasure, but they all seem now like scenes of a movie he'd watched a long time ago: the small details – a tin soldier, fireworks, the smell of leather – clearer than the story itself. Except for one thing.

He goes out to the lake to see the sun rise. He doesn't understand how, during his time on Earth, people used to rise everyday after the sun was already up, never stopping to witness the miracle of this gigantic life-giver coming into view, bringing light, beauty, energy and life to all. After so much time in here, Sam considers this visit to the rising sun not a ritual, but a sacred moment of greeting. He does it every day, infallibly.

He reaches the shore and sits down on an old log, his favorite sitting place, although there are many, many others. The darkness is already giving place to that diffuse, pale light that covers the sky just before the first golden rays break through the clouds. Sam sits and watches the horizon and makes a prayer – not to God, although he supposes he should be a little bit grateful – but to the Sun itself, as so many ancient tribes and civilizations have done before him. It's strange because he knows that, although most things in this dream-like scenery are nothing but an illusion, the sun is the same that shines over the Earth. And this, somehow, gives him great comfort.

Now the sky is already turning itself into a multicolored array of lights. Golden, orange, pink and red hues mingle against the bluish gray background of the sky and Sam admires it for a long time, specially because there's no one else to do it.

When the Sun itself breaks through the barrier of the horizon, Sam notices something else. On the wooden platform in the middle of the lake, there is a person standing, looking at his direction. Sam is not alarmed nor disturbed by this sight, for in Heaven life is also filled with those little strange occurrences that make life a constant font of amazement and surprise. But Sam stands up anyway and looks back.

The person stands against the background of the rising sun, so Sam can't see their face. It is, however, a familiar shape. It stirs something in his heart, a strong, dizzying feeling whose name he has already forgotten. He feels his chest opening like a lotus bloom, while staring at that distant figure, and feels himself pulled toward them by what seems a gentle magnetic force.

The man – he can see now it's a man – dives into the lake and swims toward him. While he does, Sam stares at the Sun and thinks about how once, a long time ago, he came to the lake and stared at the horizon with the unsaid and unconfessed hope of seeing someone swim across the lake towards him. He grasps the pendant that hangs around his neck and waits.

The man finally reaches the shore and walks briskly towards Sam. He finally stands before him and Sam smiles at him, not doing anything. He waits for his guest to speak.

“Sammy?”

“Hey Dean.”

Sam looks down at his brother and wonders if he is dreaming – do people ever dream in Heaven?

“Is it really you, Sammy? You're different, but I feel it's really you... I… haven't really dreamt about you for some time now, and this doesn't even feel like a dream.” Dean watches him nervously, breathing loudly, trying to decide whether he believes this vision or not.

“Yeah, it's really me.”

Dean looks at him and takes a step back, looking around him and back to Sam.

“Well, I'm not sure I believe you because, you know, you're supposed to be in Hell, Sam. I saw you take that plunge down the hole, taking Lucifer and Michael down with you. So, except if this is Hell and things start to get ugly pretty soon, then I'm not sure what's going on...”

Sam smiles fondly thinking about how his brother's still wary and pessimistic as ever and tries to remember a time when he was just the same.

Fortunately, he can't.

“No, not in Hell. Well, was there for a little while, but Cas made a deal with his boss and I ended up here. In Heaven. Not perfect but... definitely better than the basement”, he lets out a small laugh, not self-deprecating or cynic but truly amused. “Your remember it, right? Cuyahoga? I've being staying here for some time now. With Bones. It's nice.”

Sam smiles at Dean and Dean can't help but smile with him. He knows demons are cunning, sadistic and resourceful mother-fucking creatures, but not in a billion years the bastards could come up with a Sam like this. He has seen his brother almost this completely happy and peaceful only for a couple of times in his whole life and he's sure not even the most ass-kicking Laurence Olivier from the underworld could come even close to a smile like that. Then he sees the necklace, his necklace, and stops giving a dam. He reaches up with trembling hands and grasps his brother's face, studying this new version of Sam who somehow reminds Dean of his brother's 9-year-old self and then hugs him, with all the strength he's got, and holds on to him for life. He feels tears coming down his face and soaking Sam's t-shirt under his cheek but doesn't even think about trying to hold them back.

“Sammy... I'm not sure but... I think I died.”

Sam holds him back gently and softly says: “I'm not sure either, but yes, considering where we are, you probably did.”

“I felt my heart give out and then there was that frigging predictable white light bursting through my eyelids, and then I woke up on that platform. And then I saw you here and I thought it was Hell, like no matter how long I swam I'd never reach you...” Dean could detect the panic in his own voice but couldn't help it, remembering those dreaded moments caught between not knowing what was happening and wanting desperately to reach out for Sam.

“It’s okay, Dean, it's okay. It's over, all over, dude. We're dead, dead for good now – you can take someone out of Hell, but there's no way to take them out of Heaven. If... if you want to stay here, then it's all it will be for a while: me and you, Bones, the woods and the lake – at least, they say, until it's time to move on to something new. What do you think?”

Dean doesn’t answer, trying to process everything. He thinks about the family, friends and life he left behind, the idea of normalcy that he carried around as a costume but had, in the end, a little bit of truth to it. Like maybe, in another life, Dean could have been a good husband, and a good father. He fights the tears with all he has but they still fall down one after the other, and he just keeps holding on to Sam, trying to accept this new and unexpected reality, with both its great losses and its great gains.

After a while, Dean finally lets go of Sam and looks at him from an arms distance. He never was much fond of the idea of being stuck in an illusion, but now he thinks that this good of an illusion has never really crossed his mind before... except...

“Wait, wait. If this is Heaven, then this is my own private idaho and you're just a figment of my imagination, isn't that so?”

“Ah... about that... not really. It's me, the real me... it turns out, it seems, that we're really... like...”

“What? Fucking soul-mates or something?”

“Yeah... something along those lines.”

Dean thinks about it for a while and the paranoid, irritating voice on the back of his mind – the one that coincidentally sounds just like John Winchester – is telling him about how the idea is preposterous, and ridiculous and so fucking gay, but Dean doesn't pay a lot of attention to it and settles for saying only “Well, it makes sense, if you think about it.”

Sam only smiles and says nothing. He knows it will take some time for Dean to understand and accept the fact that, in this place, him and Sam don't need any more defenses or reasons or justifications for their actions, words or feelings. He'll soon understand that the reason he loves Sam isn't only because he's “Sam”, isn't because they're the sons of John and Mary Winchester, but simply because their bond is ancient and far, far stronger than any earthly relationship can be. You don't get the roles of Lucifer and Michael for nothing, after all. It was a test and, even though there were defeats and setbacks, in the end they passed. And that's all that matters.

For now, just Dean's presence is more than enough. Sam feels like his lungs completely fill out with air each time he draws his breath and begins to understand there is a great difference between being content and being happy.

He takes his Dean's hand – maybe he's in a little hurry after all – and pulls him along the shore: “Come on, I'll show you around.”

“Dude, you're still such a girl...” Dean hesitates a little but, finally, lets himself go.

The End.


End file.
